


Wrong Time

by SummerStormFlower



Series: Lost & Lost [3]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Quack Pack
Genre: Abandonment, Daisy is awesome, Dewey accidentally hurts himself, Gen, Huey Dewey and Louie's dad, Huey is sad, Huey needs a hug, Huey swears but only once, Letters, Louie has a lot of emotions, References to Depression, accidental injury, conflicted Louie, mentions of della duck, overworked Donald, this is all my imaginaiton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-16 21:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerStormFlower/pseuds/SummerStormFlower
Summary: Louie tries to tell his brothers about their dad's letter, but it's never the right time. After Dewey injures his hand and Huey slips into a depressed episode, Louie's certain everything's falling apart. And it's getting harder to keep his beak shut.





	Wrong Time

Dear Hubert, Deuteronomy & Louis,  
I heard from a friend that you three have been looking for me. I could go on and on about how happy it made me that I'm in your thoughts, but I won't do that. I don't want you to find me. I haven't been in your lives for almost 17 years. I failed as your father. I'm too ashamed to face you. But if you wish to write me back, get in contact with Benjordan Duck. That's my little brother. If you do write back, tell me about yourselves. Don't ask about me. I'm not proud of who I am. I want to know about you three.  
From Jack Duck

Louie sighs, carefully refolding the piece of paper and tucking it under his pillow. He's read it over a thousand times now, every word memorized in his head. He doesn't know what to think. He never expected this. Then again, he doesn't know what he was expecting. He guesses he was expecting their dad to remain a mystery forever. After two failed attempts to find him, Louie had been ready to throw in the towel. He was so sure they'd never solve the mystery of their old man. He was so sure it was one of those mysteries that aren't meant to be solved. After all, Dewey had found nothing on their father with his computer, or inside the boxes in the storage from their old house. Not even a picture.

Then this letter shows up.

Louie closes his eyes. Jack's handwriting is messy. Like Dewey's. Dewey writes fast because he's smart. Louie wonders if their dad is smart too. Louie wonders what he looks like, what he's like, what he sounds like. He wonders if Dewey's like him. He wonders if Huey's like him. If he's like him. 

Jack Duck is still very much a mystery. 

Louie hasn't told his brothers yet. But he's going to tomorrow. He just needs to process all this first. It's not easy receiving a letter from their father, who's been missing their entire lives, out of the blue.

It takes awhile for Louie to fall asleep. He stares up at the night sky through their bedroom window, where he knows their mom resides. He dreams of her jumping from star to star, trying to get back to earth.

_________________________

Louie wants to tell Huey and Dewey at the same time, but it's kinda hard to do so when one's busy while the other's not. So he decides to tell Dewey first. Huey isn't as angry at their parents as he was before. In fact, he's become more open about his feelings. He admitted that he does wonder about them. Not in the same way Louie does, but he is curious. And he's admitted that he misses them. Sometimes he asks Uncle Donald about their mom. Sometimes he digs out the photos of her that's under Dewey's bed. Sometimes he just stares up at the moon.

But their mom is different than their dad. Uncle Donald tells them stories about Della. He tells them about her talents and her flaws, about her stubborn streak, and her thirst for adventure. But most of all, he makes sure they know that she loved them. He tells them that she loved them more than anything. But he doesn't know why she left. There's always a hint of bitterness in Donald's tone when he talks about Della. 

Louie wants to believe that their mom loved them, but he can't imagine it. He can't imagine anyone loving them more than Donald does.

He goes to the garage, in search of Dewey. Huey may not be as angry at their mom as he used to be, but their dad's a different story. Uncle Donald never knew Jack, so he can't tell them about him. They don't know if he loved them.

Louie thinks he does after reading his letter, but he's not completely sure.

“Hey Lou,” Dewey greets. He’s carving something out of a slab of wood with a knife. It’s for his science fair project. He’s going to paint it and make wheels to put on the sides of it later. 

“Hey,” Louie says back. He’s got the letter in his pocket. 

“What’d ya need?” Dewey asks without taking his eyes off of his task. There’s an awful splinter in the wood that he’s having trouble cutting through. 

“I have something to tell you,” Louie says, reaching into his pocket. 

“What?”

“Yesterday, I—“

Dewey yelps all of a sudden, dropping the wood and knife on the floor, and clutching his right hand to his chest. Louie immediately rushes to his side, his eyes widening with fear when he sees red dripping from Dewey’s fingers. 

“Uncle Donald, Dewey’s bleeding!” he shouts.

“I... I...” Dewey stammers, shaking so hard Louie can see his teeth chattering. “I didn’t mean... it slipped and—“

“I know, it’s okay,” Louie says, grasping Dewey’s shoulder. He sags against him.

Donald, Huey and Daisy burst through the garage door in less than ten seconds, pile into the car at record speed, and Donald runs every red light on the way to the hospital. 

The letter lays forgotten in Louie’s pocket.  
_________________________________

Dewey gets stitches. It’s a deep cut. The doctor stops the bleeding first, then freezes his nerves. They have to wait a little while before he can get it stitched up. It throbs and burns for a few moments. Once the numbness sets in, Dewey falls asleep. He doesn’t wake up until after the drive home. 

Huey offers to finish his science project for him. Donald says no immediately, not wanting to make another trip to the emergency room. He’s going to talk to Dewey’s teacher tomorrow and come up with an alternative.

He’s forbidden from using anything that’s sharp for the rest of his life.  
_________________________________

The next day, Louie tries to tell Huey. Dewey's been in a mood since yesterday. He keeps forgetting about the bandage around his hand and tries to use it normally, only to realize that he can't. It's frustrating. Louie doesn't like dealing with moody people. He always feels like it's his fault they're mad, even if he knows it isn't. Of course, there's a chance Huey will get angry when he tells him. But being the youngest, Huey's less likely to yell at him.

He plans to tell him at breakfast. It's an early work day for Donald and Daisy, and Dewey's tutoring a classmate today, so it's just the two of them. Louie waits for him to come down. He waits and waits... and waits some more.

...

Huey doesn't show for two hours. It's practically lunch now. Huey likes to sleep in on weekends, but never this late. Louie goes up to their room in the attic to check on him. 'Oh no,' he thinks, his face falling, when he finds Huey still in bed. He's wrapped up in blankets, curled in on himself, shoulders tense, facing the wall. It's one of those days. A bad day.

Louie sits beside him and gets a good look at Huey's face. His hair's a mess, he's ghostly pale, and his eyes are red. "Can I touch you?" Louie asks. To his disappointment, Huey shakes his head. Louie desperately wants to hug him. Physical comfort always makes him feel better, and it usually makes Huey feel better too when he's like this. But sometimes touch feels like fire to Huey and it just makes everything worse. "Is it okay if I stay here? Or do you need to be alone?" Louie asks next. He hopes Huey will let him stay. Louie worries about him when he's alone on these days. Even if Huey sends him away, he'll sit in front of the door or something just in case.

"Stay," Huey says, voice like gravel.

Louie feels his heart drop. He'd take Huey getting mad over this any day. 

"I'll take a pill when I feel like getting up," Huey tells him, answering his question before Louie could even say anything.

"Okay," Louie says, laying his head down beside Huey's feet.

They spend a long time laying in bed together.  
_________________________________

Louie keeps the letter under his pillow for a week. It's not important right now. Huey is the most important thing right now. He takes his medicine, and eats as much as he can, but he spends most of the day in bed. The pills make him feel numb. He's described it as not feeling completely real. He says it's better than the drowning feeling, though not by much. He gets frustrated with himself a lot, just wanting to feel normal. He doesn't go to school; he can't handle being around so many people right now. Dewey helps him with his homework.

"Hey," Louie says softly, entering their room with a plate of food. 

Huey rolls over and sits up in bed. "Hey," he says back, rubbing his eyes.

"Brought you dinner." Louie gives him the plate.

"Thanks," Huey mumbles. He gives Louie a guilty look. "Sorry I didn't come down. I know it's just you guys, but..."

Louie shakes his head. "It's okay, I get it. You need some alone time."

"Yeah..." Huey mumbles again, still looking guilty.

"Just promise me one thing," Louie says, "You'll come to us when you know you can't be alone anymore."

Huey looks him in the eye seriously. "I promise."

Louie smiles.

He comes back into the dinning room, hearing Dewey groan in exasperation, "Uncle D, I can cut my own food!"  
_________________________________

A couple days later, Louie tries to tell Dewey again. Huey's slowly starting to feel better, coming out of their room more often, and Dewey's been less moody lately. As long as no one mentions or points out his bandaged hand, he's happy. Louie expects to find Dewey in front of his computer in their bedroom and is surprised when he sees Huey the only one there, doing his homework.

"Hey, where's Dewey?" he asks.

"Went to get something to eat," Huey replies.

So Louie goes downstairs. And finds Dewey making himself a sandwich, lathering mayo onto a slice of bread with a... knife. Without thinking, Louie rushes forward and snatches the knife from Dewey.

"Hey!"

Louie grins awkwardly. "Hi. Uh... how about I do that for you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, making Dewey's sandwich for him.

Dewey narrows his eyebrows and crosses his arms. "It's just a butter knife."

Louie knows that. It's just, he flashed back to red dripping from Dewey's fingers when he saw him with that knife.

Dewey takes his sandwich when Louie gives it to him, glaring all the while. "Thanks," he spits bitterly, then goes to sit at the table.

Well that's great. Dewey's mad at him. Just great. Not a good time to bring up the letter. Hopefully Dewey will cool off later.  
_________________________________

Yeah, uh... he doesn't.  
_________________________________

Louie doesn't get why Dewey is so angry all of the time. So he got hurt. Big deal, it was an accident. His hand is healing. He can still do stuff with his other hand. And can he really blame everyone for not wanting him around knives? It was a pretty scary experience for all of them. Louie complains to Huey about this, and is surprised when Huey says,

"He feels like he's useless, Lou."

Louie gasps. "He's not useless! Why would he think that?!"

Huey gives him a look. "Who's been making him feel like he can't do anything?"

Louie blinks. "Oh." He deflates as the answer dawns on him. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," Huey says, changing the channel on the TV.

"I didn't mean to make him feel that way," Louie says guiltily.

"I know you're just afraid of him hurting himself again. You've always hated it when either of us gets hurt," Huey says, glancing at Louie, "But you've gotta let it go. Dewey isn't gonna make the same mistake twice."

Louie sighs. He should've known that. "I need to apologize."

Huey nods.

He watches TV with Huey until Dewey gets home from a friend's house. Before he can even take off his shoes, Louie jumps at him and holds on tightly, ignoring Dewey's surprised grunt at the impact. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you feel useless. You're not useless. Far from it! And I'm real sorry!" he says as fast as he can.

Dewey blinks down at Louie, then turns his gaze to Huey. Huey gives him a look as if telling him, 'well don't just stand there, say something.' Then Dewey smiles, laughing, and squeezes Louie's shoulders.

"Does this mean you're gonna stop babying me?"

Louie nods fervently. "Yes, I promise!"

"Good," Dewey says, smiling in relief.

Louie then looks at him seriously. "You know you're not useless, right?" he asks, "You're not. You're really smart, and talented, and you always help me in any way you can. You're my hero."

The expression on Dewey's face looks like a mix between astonished and happy. He can't seem to find his voice for a moment, his jaw hanging open. Then he grins wide and just says, "Thanks, Lou."

"Hey, what about me?" Huey calls. His smile is joking, but his eyes are curious and cautious.

Louie runs and jumps on top of him, dropping all of his weight on him, and earning a shout of 'hey!'. Dewey watches and laughs.

Louie grins down at Huey and says, "Of course. You're my other hero."  
_________________________________

Huey's bad days are less frequent and much shorter, while he has more good days that last longer. Louie thinks the worst of it is over. Now should be a good time to tell his brothers about their dad's letter.

But then Huey has a bad day. A really, really bad day.

They shouldn’t have left him alone. 

When Louie gets back from basketball practice and Dewey from his computer club, their room is a disaster. They find Huey in the closet, his face buried in his knees. They ignore the mess for now, and sit down beside Huey, wrapping their arms around him. 

“What happened?” Dewey asks gently. 

“I don’t fucking know!” Huey shouts angrily without lifting his head, and making Louie jump in surprise. Even when he’s angry, Huey rarely ever swore. If Uncle D was here, he would’ve washed Huey’s mouth out with soap. “I just...” his voice trails off, shoulders starting to tremble, “I felt like I was on fire, or something, and I needed to let off some steam.”

Louie hugs Huey’s arm and rests his cheek on his shoulder, hoping he’ll find the contact comforting. Huey grasps his wrist tightly. 

“How do you feel now?” Dewey asks, combing a hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m under water and I can’t reach the surface.”

Louie swallows a lump in his throat, trying not to tear up at Huey’s words. He hates it when Huey feels this way. He wishes he knew how to make the pain go away. 

“I thought this was over,” Huey says, “my stupid, sick mind just loves to mess with me.”

“You may be a little sick, but you’re not stupid,” Dewey says. 

“Yeah right.”

Louie shakes his head against Huey’s arm, water filling his eyes. It hurts to hear Huey say such things about himself. “You’re not stupid, you’re my hero.”

Huey’s quiet for a moment. Then he whispers uncertainly, “Even now?”

Louie nods. “Even now.”

They sit there like that for a long time, and eventually Huey falls asleep. 

“I’ll clean up,” says Dewey, shifting the rest of Huey’s weight into Louie’s arms. Dewey always takes charge when Huey is out of commission. It’s probably a big brother thing. 

Suddenly, panic wells up in Louie’s chest. “Did he mess up my bed?” he asks. The letter is still under his pillow. 

Dewey frowns at him, then checks Louie’s bed. “No,” he replies, “Blankets are untouched. Comic is untouched. Pillow is untouched.”

Louie sighs a breath of relief. If Huey had found that paper in his state, who knows what he would’ve done. The thought is unsettling. Louie holds him a little tighter. 

“Drama queen,” Dewey says teasingly, as he tidies up the floor, “What are you, hiding something?”

“No!” Louie snaps his mouth shut, knowing he was way too loud. 

Dewey raises an eyebrow at him.

Louie looks at his feet. 

He’s not hiding anything. They don’t keep secrets from each other—they’ve talked about it before. He’s just waiting for the right time to tell them.  
________________________________

Huey’s back to spending most of the mornings and afternoons in bed. It’s even harder to get him to eat. He comes downstairs in the evenings. He doesn’t say much, but he listens. He tosses a ball back and forth with Louie, watches Dewey work on his computer, and takes his medicine. 

Things aren’t great, but they aren’t bad. 

Meanwhile Louie’s starting to feel like he really is keeping a secret from his brothers, and he feels horrible. But he can’t tell them right now. Who knows what it’d do to Huey. He could spiral out of control. 

So when is he supposed to tell them? It’s starting to feel like the right time will never come. 

He wants to tell them, preferably at the same time—telling them individually hasn’t worked. He wants to tell them so badly, he’s afraid he’s gonna blurt it out. So he forces himself to keep quiet, only speaking when he really needs to. 

Then one evening, Dewey and Huey sit down on either side of him on the couch. Louie tenses, knowing exactly what they’re doing. 

“What’s been going on with you, Lou?” Dewey asks. 

“Nothing!” Louie squeaks. 

“Cut the act,” Huey says, but not unkindly, “we know something’s been bothering you.” Then guilt contorts his face. “Is it me?”

“No, of course not!” Louie cries, “I just—!” He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and falls back against the sofa. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Dewey asks. 

“Because I—I just can’t.”

Huey puts a hand on his shoulder. “Louie, if something’s going on—“

“No, it’s nothing like that!” he exclaims, then sighs. “I will tell you. But I can’t right now.”

Dewey and Huey share a worried look, and Louie’s heart churns with guilt. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t tell you guys when,” he looks at Huey, “you feel like you’re drowning. I don’t wanna add to that.”

Huey looks like he wants to protest, but then his face falls and he sighs. “I’d normally argue that I’m not glass,” he says, pulling Louie into a one-armed hug, “But I know you know that. So it must be big.”

Louie nods, leaning against Huey tiredly. 

“I don’t like you dealing with hard stuff on your own, but I know I won’t make things easier if I just fall apart.”

“You can tell me,” Dewey says, putting his hand on Louie’s other shoulder, “I’m sure I can help out.”

“No,” Louie says. 

“It’s okay,” says Huey, “I don’t mind being left out.”

“No,” Louie says more firmly, “I don’t wanna play favourites.”

“It’s not playing—“

“No.”

Huey and Dewey sigh. 

That’s the end of the conversation.  
________________________________

Louie wants to go to Uncle Donald for help, but lately he seems so overworked and exhausted, coming home late and falling asleep at the kitchen table with a cold cup of coffee. So he decides to go to Daisy.

She's dusting in the camper van when Louie goes to her.

"Hi Louie," she turns to him and blinks. Louie's tense with his hands behind his back. She gives him a soft smile. "I know that look. What's wrong?"

Louie sighs heavily. "I have something I really need to tell the guys, but I don't know if it's the right time."

"The right time?" Daisy asks.

"Yeah," Louie nods, "I mean, I don't wanna say anything on one of Huey's bad days. But I don't wanna cause him to have a bad day. And I don't wanna tell Dewey without telling him. I... I don't know what to do," he admits, hanging his head.

Daisy leans against the counter. "Take it from me, you could never be the cause of Huey's bad days," she says, "And there is no such thing as the right time. That's not how life works, kiddo."

"But then how am I supposed to know when to tell them?"

"You don't. Life is never about knowing. It's about learning."

"What if everything goes wrong because of me?"

"Oh Louie," Daisy says, shaking her head, "You know your brothers would never blame you for anything. And hey, if things do get messy, you just learn how to deal with them."  
________________________________

Louie spends a little while thinking about what Daisy said. Then he makes a decision.

He runs up the ladder into their room in the attic, where Dewey's helping Huey with his homework, and lunges for his pillow. Then, with the paper in hand, he goes to stand in front of his brothers, who're watching him curiously.

"This is a letter from our dad!" he says quickly and loudly.

Dewey and Huey are quiet for a long time.

Then Huey says with confused eyes, "A what?"  
________________________________

Dewey slumps in his chair, fiddling with the bandage around his hand. "I can't believe he's really out there."

Louie sits on the floor, fiddling nervously with his fingers, and looking worriedly between Dewey and Huey. "How do you guys feel?" he asks.

Dewey shrugs. "I don't know. I'm... in disbelief."

Huey stares down the letter, his eyes skimming over the words over and over again. "I was always afraid that he hated us. But it doesn't sound like he does." Huey folds the paper and puts it on their desk. He rests his elbows on his knees and stares down at his clasped hands. "He sounds guilty. Though it's possible he could've lied."

Louie had thought that too when he read it. He doesn't like to think that, but he's not sure what to believe either.

Dewey's gone completely still and silent. Huey keeps staring at his hands. Louie looks between the two of them, frowning. Granted he doesn't know what he was expecting from them, but their reactions are weird. Dewey's pretty much unresponsive. Huey isn't yelling, but Louie isn't sure if that's good or bad.

Then Huey looks up. "Should we write back?"

Louie's surprised that the question is directed at him. They don't normally look to him for guidance. It's not even because he's the youngest, it's because he's not a leader. He's either indecisive, impulsive, or gets stressed too easily. He's always been content to do what others tell him, giving out his trust freely. It's one of the things that make him gullible, which is another reason why he's not a leader.

Louie looks away from Huey's gaze, fidgeting with his fingers. He'd been more concerned about telling his brothers than about how he felt.

Dewey starts to pick at his bandage. Huey reaches out and stops him. He blinks rapidly.

Then magically, Louie finds his own feelings and says, "I don't want to write back."

Huey and Dewey look at him.

"I want to see what he looks like, and I want to talk to him, and ask him questions. I think it's selfish of him to ask about who we are, but not tell us about him. He doesn't deserve to know. He's the one who left. We don't owe him anything. He owes us everything." Louie sighs, then looks up. "I want to meet him."

Huey and Dewey look at each other. Then at Louie. Then they smile.

"I wanna yell at him. Maybe punch him in the face," Huey says.

"I wanna prank him. I wanna prank him bad," Dewey says mischievously.

Louie grins, then frowns. "How are we gonna find him?"

Dewey picks up the letter and waves it in the air with a smirk. "Through Benjordan Duck."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those who read! And to those who comment, I love you. Man, this was a lot of work, but totally worth it! I'm so excited to write the next part! I'm not gonna spoil it, but I do have one thing to say: ROAD TRIP!!


End file.
